


with heartbeats

by orphan_account



Series: Soft and Tender [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lance cries again, M/M, Nightmares, and Keith is there for him, but it's okay to cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-17 22:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18108068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: prompt:“You hear my heart beat? Just focus on that.”(nightmares are hard to forget).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> you know, I think it's unfair for only Lance to cry. next chapter we'll see some Keithy-cat cry, too (and not about Jack Frost).

_“Veronica, look out!” he shouts, gripping his seat hard as the vehicle swerves._

_“I know!” his sister utters, it sounds muffled, like Lance is underwater._

_He turns to look at her. The spot is empty, he only sees the desert._

_Lance panics and bolts to his feet, his eyes roaming around in search of his sister. He takes in the surroundings within milliseconds—a crashed car, broken pieces of metal, huge craters on the dry ground. Veronica’s lying unconscious near the destroyed vehicle, motionless._

_Lance runs to her, only he doesn’t move. He runs faster, his knees feel like they’re filled with iron. Veronica is still far away from his reach._

_“Veronica!” he shouts, but his voice doesn’t echo out of his lungs. Only in his mind, and it screams loud enough for his entire head to throb._

_Lance sees the Galra ship approaching. It moves slow, everything is slow—the ship, the air, him. The only thing having speed is his heartbeat, ruthless against his chest._

_Lance tries to grab his bayard, but he no longer has any arms._

_The ship gets closer and closer and closer._

_And Lance can only stare and stare and stare and—_

_Varadero._

_Lance feels calm, soft sand under his feet. The ocean is clear and a beautiful blue. Lance stares at it, smiling._

_“Leandro, have you seen your father’s hat?” Rosa calls from the house._

_He looks around, but he still sees the calm waves even with his back turned to it._

_Rosa stands in the door, looking at him questioningly._

_“It’s on the kitchen counter,” Veronica calls from somewhere. She sounds relaxed, nonchalant._

_Veronica._

_She was at the desert, dead._

_The ocean turns black and Lance’s throat closes up. He remembers the crash and screams, telling his family to run, that the Galra are coming, that they need to get out of here._

_His voice, yet again, only shouts loud in his own head. He can’t breathe._

_Lance sees the ship and blinks. The house is on fire. And he’s staring at Keith, his face framed with flames._

_“It hurts,” Keith screams, but his expression is blank, stoic, emotionless. Like a mask with barely moving lips._

_“I’m sorry,” Lance says. No one hears him._

_His house burns and Lance can’t move._

_“Why aren’t you helping?” Keith screams again, his face unchanging._

_“I’m trying!” he screams again, willing his body to move. It doesn’t._

_The waves become huge, a black ink threatening to swallow him alive. They do._

_Lance is pulled into the ocean, into a dark abyss that has no end._

_Lance can’t see, but he can hear. He hears it loud and he hears it clear._

_“It hurts, Lance!” they scream. Lance hears the team._

_“Why aren’t you helping us?!” cries Allura._

_Lance opens his mouth, but chokes on water, it’s thick like molasses and tastes like iron._

_It’s_ _blood._

_“Help us, mijo!” yells Rosa._

_Lance tries to scream. Then he sees the purple ship cut throw the endless black. Approaching. Approaching. Approaching—_

He jolts.

Lance breathes for a while, feeling his heartbeat. It’s loud and painful, pulsing in every single vein in his body—he feels it in his chest, his neck, his fingertips. He feels cold as if his blood has been replaced by ice.

Lance blinks and only now realizes that he’s crying.

Keith is sleeping next to him, his breath flutters his hair, an arm around Lance’s middle. Lance looks at his face and—

_—it hurts—_

“Shut up,” he whispers, turning to face away from him. He closes his eyes in fear of seeing Keith’s face again, in flames.

— _why aren’t you helping—_

“Shut. Up!” he repeats, his voice unwittingly loud. His entire body feels hot now, burning like he’s in the house with the others.

— _help us, mijo—_

“Shut _up!”_ he yells and covers his ears with his hands.

It’s been so long since the last time he had this nightmare, he forgot how horrible it feels to wake up from it, to make himself believe he’s not there. Lance tries to even out his breathing, tries to calm his heartbeat, tries to remind himself that he’s okay, that everyone is okay and alive and not burning—

— _it hurts—_

The voices still scream, he can hear the terror and can taste the iron. He still can’t breathe. God, he’s there, drowning.

“—ance! Lance!” more yelling and he sobs, pressing his hands harder onto his ears, closing his eyes tighter.

“Go away, please, I—please, stop screaming, stop screaming! Don’t scream!” Lance sobs, wishing the voices to disappear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please, go away.”

Lance feels something brush against his wrist and screams, jerking away.

“No, no no no, don’t—go away, don’t touch me!”

“It’s me, Lance,” Keith whispers.

Keith. He _whispers_.

“What?”

“It’s just me,” he repeats, his hand hovering in the air between them.

Lance looks at him, the tears block his vision, but he can still make out the white bangs and pale skin and dark eyes.

“Oh,” he croaks and looks around.

He’s not drowning, he’s in his bedroom, illuminated with just one lamp—Keith must’ve turned it on.

Lance looks back at Keith. He’s sitting up, looking at him concerned and sad.

“Sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says, wiping away his tears; they don’t stop falling, however. The previous panic and fear slowly die down, slipping into forgotten exhaustion—it really drains the life out of him, Lance remembers now how heavy his limbs used to get after calming down, lying alone in his dorm.

“I didn’t know you had nightmares,” Keith whispers. He gets closer, taking Lance’s hand into his; he starts wiping the tears away with the sleeve of his pajamas.

“I haven’t had one in a while,” Lance answers, sniffling. Keith runs tentative lines under his eyes, catching the tears there. “I don’t know… Nothing has happened these last weeks for me to… I don’t understand why.”

“Hey,” Keith says, so softly. Lance looks at him; Keith’s hand is gentle against his cheek, grounding, reassuring. “Sometimes it happens for no reason. You’ve been through a war, Lance, that’s not easy to get over.”

Lance sniffs, casting his eyes down—he sees two dots appear on the sheets, he can’t stop crying.

“I know, I’m just,” he stops when it becomes hard to talk. His throat hurts and feels tight and his lungs almost refuse to let the air in. “I’m tired—” he chokes.

“Shh, I’m here, starlight,” Keith coos, he moves closer, pulling Lance into a hug—it’s careful and caring, like Keith doesn’t want to cross a line, doesn’t want to scare him away. “I’m with you, Lance, you’re safe.”

“I’m so tired, it’s been—it’s been weeks since last time. I thought I was doing okay, why am I still—” he sobs, leaning further into Keith’s chest, his hands gripping the other’s shirt like a lifeline. Keith brings his other hand and wraps it around Lance’s shoulder, petting his hair in a calming way.

“And… and it’s always the same—Veronica and then the… the others and you and the team and—” his breath hitches. “And I can’t even do anything about the fire or—or the screaming or—or—”

Lance tries to breathe.

“Hey, try not to think about that anymore,” Keith says, his voice solicitous and caring. After a moment he lays back on the bed, bringing Lance with him so his head rests on his chest. Lance keeps crying.

His mind isn’t screaming anymore, but he can still hear them, like the voices are locked in another room and are shouting from there. Usually, they don’t quiet down until the sun is up and Lance’s tears are dry.

Keith continues to stroke his fingers through his hair, his other arm tight around Lance’s middle, pulling him close, pulling him into warmth and comfort and away from the drowning feeling that still lingers.

He whispers sweet nothings and kisses his forehead when Lance chokes on a sob, he tells him that everything is okay, tells him he’s safe and everyone else is safe. He talks and talks and talks, until Lance’s shoulders stop shaking and his breath evens out a little and his eyes are not stinging as bad as before.

Lance listens to his voice more than his words, feels how his chest moves up and down with each breath, how it vibrates as he speaks. Keith whispers low and soothing, his voice creating a safe bubble around him, pushing his thoughts away, bringing in fondness and light and calm and safety.

Keith talks until his voice is the only one Lance hears.

“Feel any better?” he asks after Lance has stopped crying completely. At some point, Keith had grabbed the comforter and covered both of them with it.

“No,” says Lance, because he’s not better. He’s sleepy and exhausted and so fucking afraid.

“That’s okay,” he says, then adds: “I’m sorry about the dream.”

“’s not your fault,” Lance murmurs against his shirt.

“Still, I am,” he says, his voice sounds a little raw. “I wish you didn’t have them.”

“Me too.”

Lance stares at a spot on the wall. Keith’s presence feels like a promise, feels like a mother’s hug after a bad day, like a warm tea on a cold night, a fluffy blanket at a chilly evening.

It’s healing.

Lance closes his eyes and pushes his face further into the boy’s chest—he faintly feels the soft pounding of his heart, it sounds like a spell, enchanting.

Lance doesn’t want this to disappear, doesn’t want this to burn.

“I’m afraid,” he whispers, voice barely audible. Keith starts rubbing small circles on his back, holds him closer. “I don’t want something to happen to my family…”

“We can… we can call your mother if you want?” says Keith.

“No, she’ll get worried,” he shakes his head after a beat of silence. “I just, I don’t want to be… useless, not be able to protect if… anything goes wrong.”

“You singlehandedly defeated Gyrniz,” Keith says, shaking him a little. “You’re not useless or unable of protecting them, Lance.”

Lance hums, it’s hard to believe him but… he wants to believe, so he’ll at least try.

Wait.

“It’s not just them,” he lifts his head up, looking down at him. Keith’s hair is splayed on the pillow, the dim orange light from the lamp makes it look golden; Lance catches the glint of his earrings. “You’re my family, too.”

Keith stares up at him, then his eyes get a little glossy. He blinks and clears his throat.

“I—you, too,” he says, averting his eyes. Lance sees the slightest of pink on his cheeks, it causes a weak jolt of his mouth. Keith locks their eyes again, his gaze determined and admiring. “You’re my family, too.”

Lance smiles, it’s small but it’s true. He reaches up and runs his thumb against the flushed cheek; the skin under his touch is warm. Keith leans into it, smiling up at him.

Lance drops his head back on Keith’s chest.

“You think you’ll be able to sleep?” Keith asks, going back to brushing his hair, scratching the skin there gently with his nails.

“I don’t know.”

“You hear my heart beat?” Lance nods. “Just focus on that.”

Lance does, he moves his head more to the left and just—listens.

Keith’s heart beats slow and fierce, it’s both loud and not loud enough. Lance closes his eyes and sighs, he feels warm, like each beat carries a significant warmth that’s just for him, only for him, turning the ice in his veins back into blood.

Lance feels sleepy and exhausted and afraid. And it’s okay to feel sleepy and exhausted and afraid sometimes. Lance thinks he won’t need sunlight to scare those demons away; he hugs Keith tighter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt:](https://yourfriendlyneighborsam.tumblr.com/post/183138712232/%F0%9D%90%92%F0%9D%90%8E%F0%9D%90%85%F0%9D%90%93-%F0%9D%90%92%F0%9D%90%84%F0%9D%90%8D%F0%9D%90%93%F0%9D%90%84%F0%9D%90%8D%F0%9D%90%82%F0%9D%90%84-%F0%9D%90%92%F0%9D%90%93%F0%9D%90%80%F0%9D%90%91%F0%9D%90%93%F0%9D%90%84%F0%9D%90%91%F0%9D%90%92) “Your heartbeat’s really loud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update, school started and I won't be able to post as frequently as before.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy Keithers crying and Lance taking care of him. it's 2am, I'll be the one crying in seconds if I'm not in bed soon.

_“And I should’ve abandoned you just like your parents did!” Shiro growls, his hand glows purple. His eyes, they’re not his, they are stranger._

_Keith still stares into them, hoping for an ounce of familiarity._

_Then, he’s running. His legs hurt, his jaw stings, he runs._

_Shiro runs after, faster than him, stronger than him._

_‘It’s not Shiro’, Keith thinks._

_“Of course, it’s me!” Shiro yells from behind, somehow hearing his thoughts._

_‘No!’ he thinks again, desperate, moving his feet faster._

_“Yes, Keith!” he shouts again. “You can’t run forever!”_

_Keith blinks. He’s on the ground and is staring up at Shiro, their blades are crossed above him, just inches away from his face._

_The purple one burns, Keith feels hot, feels something fire-alike under his skin._

_“Shiro!” he calls, his voice is tight. Something is choking him; something is tight around his throat. “You’re my brother! I love you!”_

_Shiro only glares, face unchanging. Keith feels the thing around his throat tighten even more._

_Then, he feels fury, burning and boiling and hot. Out of control._

_He blinks. Shiro’s on the ground, bleeding._

_Keith looks down at himself, his hands are purple and his claws are sharp, painted red with blood._

_“You did this,” someone says. Keith looks to his side and sees—_

_Himself. He’s Galran, eyes yellow and face purple._

_“What? No, Black will come and—”_

_“He’s dead, there’s no need for Black to come anymore,” the other Keith says. He sounds calm, cold, unbothered._

_Keith feels something painfully icy under his skin. He kneels down, gripping Shiro’s shoulders and shaking him._

_The man stays unconscious. Keith leans down to check his heartbeat, but his heart isn’t there. His chest is empty._

_“Why are you so calm! Help me!” he yells, and despite the dejection, his voice is the exact same kind of calmness and coldness as the other Keith’s._

_“Why would I?” Keith asks, his yellow eyes staring straight into his._

_“This is Shiro!”_

_“So?” he shrugs. “I kill, not the opposite.”_

_“No, you’re a paladin!”_

_“Do I look like a paladin?” he asks, gesturing at himself. He doesn’t. He looks Galran. “No, and neither do you.”_

_Keith looks down at himself again, his previous paladin armor now replaced with a dark purple one. He looks Galran._

_He is Galran._

_“You destroy,” Keith says. He himself says it. “You’re not meant to be with them.”_

Keith blinks. He’s in his living room, lying on the couch. He feels tired and empty.

There’s a distant sound of water running in the shower, a commercial speaking low on TV, the rain pouring outside.

Keith sits up, panicking, removing the warm yellow blanket and looks down on his hands. They’re normal, no claws, no purple and definitely no blood.

He breathes in, holding it. God, not again. It’s the third time this week.

He’s seen this dream before, countless times but it went away eventually. Now, however, it’s back and Keith has been having trouble sleeping for the past five days.

He covers his face, letting out a quiet groan. He’s so tired, his eyes are heavy and burning and as his heartbeat increases, painful against his ribcage, his ears start to ring. He grips his hair with both of his hands, making sure to run his nails on the skin there. His _nails_ , not claws. He’s not the Keith from the dream.

He’s not. He’s not he’s _not he’s not—_

“Hey?” he hears a voice; it cuts through the deafening ringing.

Keith looks up abruptly.

Lance is crouched in front of him, looking at him worried. His hair is damp from the shower and Keith smells the distinct scent of coconut. Shit, he didn’t even notice him entering the room.

“You okay?” Lance asks softly, placing a hand on his knee.

“Yeah,” Keith says back and clears his voice when it comes out hoarse. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Lance doesn’t look convinced. His brows furrow even more, creating a thin line of disturb between them.

“Then why are you crying?” he asks.

Keith barely manages not to jolt when he suddenly becomes aware of the wetness on his cheeks. Fuck. He wipes the tears away quickly, ashamed that Lance has seen them.

“It’s nothing.”

Lance frowns, staring at him in a way that indicates he’s not planning to let this drop.

No one knows.

Well, maybe Shiro does since he was there, but Keith is not sure how much he remembers from that fight, and he hasn’t done anything for Keith to think he knows about the transformation.

The fact that he’s half-Galran was already hard enough for him to comprehend, it took him months to accept that part of himself and since that fight, the knowledge that he can, apparently, turn into the species that destroyed countless galaxies and not be able to control it is ruining him, eating him alive. He couldn’t have said anything to _anyone_ , too afraid of their reactions. Allura barely managed to accept him before, he’s not sure how she will take in this information.

He’s not sure how Lance will take it. A part of him, the more rational part, knows Lance will support him no matter what, will look at him the same way. But another part, louder and more convincing one, says that he won’t.

“Keith, talk to me,” Lance pleas, rubbing small circles on his knee. It’s soothing, but not soothing enough.

“It’s… I…” he stops, the knot in his throat becomes painful. Keith feels more tears run down his face, leaving wet marks of shame and hate and anger and despair. He dips his head down, hiding behind his bangs; he doesn’t want Lance to watch him like this.

“Hey,” Lance coos, leaning closer. His hands slide up to his shoulders, wrapping around him in a gentle hug.

“Sorry, I’ll—shit, I didn’t mean to cry,” Keith says, crying some more.

“It’s okay, Keith,” says Lance. “It’s okay to cry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Keith nods and buries his face into the other’s shoulder; his hands move on their own to settle around Lance’s middle, gripping it tightly like a lifeline. He’s not exactly sobbing—Keith has never been the sobbing type—his tears just won’t stop running down his face, stinging his eyes and making his head throb.

Keith sniffles.

Lance has one hand on the back of his head, mindlessly caressing it in a way that makes Keith breathe easier, and the other is placed between his shoulder blades, holding him closer, touching him delicately and protectively.

“Want me to make you some hot chocolate?” he asks after Keith’s breathing stopped being rapid.

Keith nods again, too tired to use actual words. When Lance moves to stand up, Keith grips his shirt tighter and stands up with him; he finds it hard to separate, doesn’t want to leave the safeness and warmth that is Lance.

Keith hugs him from behind, his arms nested on Lance’s stomach with his fingers linked together. Lance puts his own hand above Keith’s and it’s such a simple, small gesture, just a hand on top of his, but nevertheless, Keith’s chest fills with devotion. It’s these tiny details about Lance that makes his heart flutter, makes him fall deeper and deeper and deeper.

Lance starts making hot chocolate, humming quietly and moving around the kitchen unhurriedly, as if making sure not to disturb Keith, not to move too uncomfortable for him and it makes Keith want to cry for a completely different reason. He takes one of Keith’s hands into his, connecting their fingers together and lifts it up to his lips. He kisses his palm, his lips soft and tender and lingering, and he stays that way as he pours the hot drink into one of their huge mugs; the skin there, under Lance’s touch, it burns.

Lance turns in his arms, holding the drink for him. He leans and kisses his forehead in the softest way; Keith thinks he doesn’t deserve Lance.

“Here, it’s my mom’s recipe,” he says, his voice just as soft as the kiss was. “Its deliciousness scares the boo-monsters away.”

Keith snorts, blinking lazily. He grabs the mug and takes a sip—it tastes sweet and a little bitter, it tastes like warm cuddles on a snowy night and loving kisses under the star-dusted sky. It tastes perfect.

Keith hums pleasantly as he swallows and Lance smiles at him, it’s small but fond. He leans back on the counter, dragging Keith with him by his arms around his waist.

“Feel better?”

Keith nods. He’s not feeling good, but he is better than he was when he woke up. He sips his drink and stares down at it afterward.

“Did you have a nightmare?” asks Lance, lifting one hand to brush the white bangs away, tucking it behind his ear. He slides his thumb above his earrings—it’s a thing Lance does now, absentmindedly playing with the two metals when they’re cuddling or deliberately running a tentative line across them; Keith thinks it’s endearing.

He nods.

“Want to tell me about it?” he asks, the words timid and careful, trying not to cross a line.

“I don’t—” Keith begins, ready to say he doesn’t want to, ready to give in to the fear of Lance’s eyes losing their special spark when looking at him, ready to deal with it _alone_. But then he remembers how caring Lance has been, how he doesn’t force him to talk and is okay with just being there for him, keeping him company, keeping the dark thought as far away as possible. He remembers how Lance had shared his own dark thoughts and deep fears, how Lance had trusted Keith enough to tell him.

Keith thinks it’ll be unfair for him to stay quiet. He thinks that he doesn’t have to deal with it _alone_.

Lance deserves more than someone who’s unwilling to face his own fears.

“It’s that fight,” he says. “With Shiro—or his clone,” he says. His eyes are still downcast and he shuts them as Lance starts caressing his cheek. “I…”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Lance says and his voice is so, so loving, so gentle and so understanding that—

“I turn Galra,” he blurts, abruptly looking up and into Lance’s eyes. They go wide for only a millisecond. “I mean, during the fight, I transformed… sort of. I felt… fangs and I think my eyes turned yellow too because everything was brighter and I think I saw a color I’ve never seen before,” he rambles, his voice just slightly shaking from the possible reaction his confession might get.

Lance hasn’t once stopped skimming his cheekbone, touch subtle and doting.

“And like—why does it have to be Galra? There are so many more species in this goddamn universe, so why do I have to belong to the—fucking malignant one? I… I hate this, I hate that part of me,” he adds and God, saying it out loud is equally relieving as it is terrifying. He’s looking at Lance, flicking through his eyes to see a drop of disgust or disappointment or even fear. But it shines just as blue as any other time. Then, there’s a spark of determination and before Keith knows it, Lance is holding his face closer to his own.

“In no universe should you hate _any_ part of yourself,” he says, voice stern and eyes burning. “Keith, you’re… you’re so amazing, and you’re kind and sweet and loving and—you cried while watching Wall-e, for Christ’s sake, you’re nothing like those Galrans. Okay?” he says. “You care for people and you care about their wellbeing and their happiness and you do everything in your power to help them when they need to.”

Keith’s eyes start burning again. He blinks.

“But… Listen, I couldn’t control it, okay? I didn’t even know it was happening until it happened and… and what if it happens again and I’ll hurt someone?” he says, averting his eyes down to stare at the drink again. “What if I hurt you?”

_—Shiro’s on the ground, bleeding—_

_—you did this—_

_—I kill, not the opposite—_

“Keith—”

“No, you don’t get it. It was… it was horrible,” Keith cuts him off, stepping back and away from his embrace. Lance’s face is worried and concerned and sad. “I had no idea what was happening, everything was bright and—and it burned and I had no idea how to stop it. I can’t stop it, Lance, and if I hurt someone, if I hurt _you_ … I—I can never forgive myself.”

He’s crying again, and Keith doesn’t even try to stop the tears.

Lance straightens but doesn’t move forward, respecting the distance Keith has chosen to keep between them.

“Did you hurt Shiro?” he asks.

“Well, no, but—”

“Then you won’t hurt me or anyone else, Keith,” he says. He sounds so sure it’s almost enough for Keith to just forget all of his doubts. Almost. “You just… this is still new to you; it will take time to get used to it. No one is expecting for you to get everything under control in a snap of a finger.”

Keith sniffs.

“But… why does it have to be Galra?” he whispers, because why? Why the hell does he have to be fucking Galra? Of all the things he could’ve been, why the hell is it the species that terrorized the universe for millennials?!

“That doesn’t define you, Keith,” Lance tells him. “You could be Haggar’s twin sister and it would not define who you are as a person, okay?” he adds and then, hesitantly, reaches a hand to take one of Keith’s—the one that’s not holding the mug. He takes his hand and places it on his chest, right across his beating heart, holding it gently. “It’s… it’s the decisions you make and the way you feel about certain things and the way you talk to people and… just, simply the way you live that makes you Keith. Not some stupid fucking Galra DNA in your blood—which, I’ll add right now, is not stupid at all because it’s a part of you and every part of you is valid and deserving of love.”

Keith stares at him. His vision is stained with tears but he still stares. Stares at Lance who’s being beyond understanding and unbelievably nice and sweet and accepting and. And he really can’t believe he ever thought Lance would look at him differently over this. He stares at him and cries even more because it’s overwhelming how _perfect_ Lance is, it’s overwhelming in the best way and Keith can’t fucking believe he has Lance by his side.

“Can I hug you now?” asks Lance, sounding impatient.

Keith nods, meeting him half-way. He keeps his hands between their chests, still holding the mug, but it does nothing to ruin the way Lance wraps him into a warm embrace, the way Keith nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck, breathing the smell of coconut and soap and _Lance_.

“Lance,” he croaks after a moment.

“Hm?” he hums, his hands stroking his hair softly at the base of his neck.

“I could never be Haggar’s twin sister,” he says. “I’m a boy.”

Lance snorts, leaning away to smile at him. Keith smiles back, it’s wet and wobbly.

Lance kisses the tip of his nose.

“You are,” he says, now kissing his wet eyelids, drying the tears there. “You’re an amazing, wonderful, beautiful, kind, sweet boy and I—I’m very lucky to have you,” he says, finishing by a gentle peck of their lips.

Keith disagrees, _he’s_ the lucky one to have Lance. He keeps the thought to himself, though.

“Thanks, you… you always make things better,” says Keith and because the words seem less, so small compared to the ocean-deep emotions he’s feeling for this boy, he kisses him.

Keith kisses him deep and meaningful, moving slow but passionately, making sure to carve every drop of—of love he’s feeling for Lance into the movement of his lips. Lance kisses back, just as affectionately, just as deeply and just as full of—of love; Keith makes an aching sound at the back of his throat. He wants more, he needs more of Lance, all of him, wants him close until he’s forgotten where their skin begins and ends, until he forgets everything else but him, until it’s just Lance and only Lance—his lips and his touch and his smell and his sweet, soft noises and—

“Shit!” they both exclaim as they’re covered in hot chocolate.

Keith stares at the stain on Lance’s green shirt, then on his own black one. Then he looks up at Lance.

“Sorry,” he says.

Lance snickers, taking the empty mug from his hand and places it on the counter.

“It’s okay,” he says, pulling him close for a hug; it’s sticky from the drink and Keith’s socks are soaking up what’s spilled on the floor and Lance stinks a little like milk now—the hug is perfect.

“Your heartbeat’s really loud,” says Keith as he _hears_ not just feels the pounding from the other’s chest, right against his own.

“Not gonna lie to you, muffin,” says Lance. “You’re a pretty damn good kisser.”

Keith laughs, leaning into him more—into the heart that’s beating like this because of him.

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t think that way, okay?” he says, his breath tickles his neck. “You’re so perfect I can’t even begin to explain it.”

Keith nods. He’ll try, he really will.

Lance kisses him on the side of his neck. Then leans away.

“Now, let’s clean this mess up aaaaaand,” he drawls with his usual charming, mirthful voice. “Then we can have a long, nice, relaxing bath,” he says with wiggling eyebrows. “With bath bombs and bubbles and those new lavender candles I bought.”

Keith snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Fine, if that’s what you want.”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t want to.”

Keith just smiles and kisses him on the cheek—he wants to; he’s sure Lance knows this without the need of his accord.

Keith has no idea what he did to deserve Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, it's not everyday you hear you're half the species that's associated to pure cruelty. Keith has been alone for so long and after finding a family that loves him for who he is, it's natural he'd want to protect them at all costs. and discovering that he's part-galran must've been hard to take in because that means he has to protect them from himself, which means he'll have to leave them. good thing Lance is there to knock some sense into his dum-dum brain.
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoyed this.
> 
> come say hi to me on [tumblr.](https://yourfriendlyneighborsam.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this, my dudes!
> 
> also, thanks for reading this series! when I read the comments and, like, see the same people commenting I kind of... die? like, you guys came back?..?? for more?? wow. it makes me unbelievably happy, thank you!
> 
> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://yourfriendlyneighborsam.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/frendlysam)


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